Because a certain individual asked me to, I have changed the time on this thing to reflect my (current) local time. Happy, rinachick?

I was watching Xena, the Warrior Princess (yes, I know, I know) on Oxygen today and they had this really stupid thing where they let all these dumbass viewers post their comments on the internet or something and they would show up on the telly under the picture while the show was on. What this meant was that we had people calling themselves 'Xena19' and 'ILuvGabby74' making smartass comments like 'aah...secrets revealed' and 'stupid Xena! Look bhind u!' all throughout the show? Why do they let people do this? I can make enough dumbass comments myself without these other dumbasses helping me out; I bet I can do a better job than most of them, too.

I can't believe they made it through an hour of Xena without a single 'show me your titties'. I was just waiting for something like that to show up.

So anyway, back to my life; I wrote another poem today, but I decided that the public at large has seen to much poetry from me already; I'm sure you guys are sick of it, anyway. As such, today I'm back to my usual rants and whinings.

So today I got a nice package in the mail (thanks to my now favourite people in Toledo) and that was really wonderful; it always makes me happy to know that some people, well, are nice to me. Happiness is chocolate, peanut butter, and lots of bubble wrap. Mm mm good.

I also finally have a cell phone number for my New York trip; anybody wishing to contact me while I'm in New York (and hence, not very sociable) can email me and ask politely for the number. I anticipate very few emails on this subject.

I can't believe time is passing so slowly...what's wrong with the universe? Fuck!

Feeling real blah today, I have composed another poem to illustrate my mood:

Hi. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Fuck fuck, fuck fuck.
Oh, look, it's cheese.
Fuck.
Did you fart or does it just sound like that? Fuck!
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck. Fuck? Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck....fuck. Fuck.
That's a duck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!
Fuck.
Fuckfuck.
Fuck, fuck fuck. Fuck.
Mm mm lunch time.
Ok back...fuck. Fuck.
Fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.
Fuck.
Still hungry.

Too much tv rots your brain;
I think I have gone insane
Or maybe it's just all of you;
Yes, I think that's likely true
That everyone has just got bonkers
Even that girl with the big honkers
And so I think I'll take a break
From other people and heartache!
I'll go live with my faithful friends,
Down where the sunshine never ends!
I'm going away to where live is green;
Where nobody's dumb and nobody's mean;
It's time to make a stand, I say!
And live with the cabbages, starting today!
Nobody left to shout and rant
When you've become a leafy plant!
Let your roots grow way down low,
Turning cabbage's the way to go!
Human life is far too exciting;
The life of a cabbage seems much more inviting;
Living off soil is what I will
I'll top that off with our cholorophyll!
Too long have I eaten of red meat
Living off dirt seems much more sweet!
Too long have I seen my vegetable friends
Inside human mouths meet untimely ends!
So I think I'll pack my things
And see what cabbage-style life brings.
So now I see that things get worse
The longer that I stretch this verse.
And so now ends the time for talk
Live life as a cabbage, coz cabbages rock!

So yesterday I had my first social contact in ages and ages - I hung out with two (yes, all of two) people my age; now this might not seem like much to you guys, but for someone who's been cut off from society for three whole weeks, trust me, it's a big deal. I played what must have been the best game of ping pong in my life; I mean, I don't even like ping pong. So, well, you guys, if you're reading this (which I know you probably never will), thanks. You may have saved my life.

I watched the man show for the first time today and I have to report that it was totally kick-ass. Ah, dancing semi-naked jokes and fart jokes. You can't get much better than that. It brought me back to the butt-slapping good times in the Singapore army. What I would give for a beer right now. And some sexy ladies. Hello.

In other news, a study by 20/20 apparently got women to pick their dream date amongst 5 men; they had tall men with average resumes, and short men who they billed venture capitalists or specialist doctors or whatever; the study had all the women picking the tall men. When asked what would make them pick the short men, women replied that they would pick the shorter guys if the taller ones were 'child molesters' or had 'criminal records'. This is the exact sort of thing that paints a sunny rainbow over my dreary days.

For those of you who may be wondering, yesterday's experiments with lucidity came out (relatively) successful - yes, that's right, for a few brief hours, I was master of my dream world. Fireworks and beer are in order. Unfortunately, I still as of yet have no money.

So, I can feel the question burning in the back of your minds, what did our ultra-boring hero do as master of his sub-conscious universe? Well, quite naturallly, it was all ultra-boring, of course. I willed myself back to Singapore and hung out with my folks - we had dinner, talked for a while, I played with my kid brother and sister, then went to play a game of football with my army buddies. Pathetic, eh? Well, that's my life, or at least it was; I'm beginning to miss it.

So today I finally decided to give up on calculus, since it's becoming increasingly apparent to me just how badly I suck at it; I know, I know - I should be enjoying my holiday and all, but seriously, what else do I have to do? Went for a (roughly) 2 mile run yesterday before deciding running was too strenuous; if there are awards for trying, I'm sure as hell not getting any.

I don't believe I'm trying to study! Years and years of skipping classes and building up my slacker creds potentially flushed down the toilet bowl by the emergence of this friggin' closet nerd! I would kill him in his sleep, but then I'd be dead, and from all accounts, being dead kind of sucks.

I wrote a poem yesterday (first in ages):

I used to like verse
Now I don't
It sucks way too bad -
Mine, anyway.
Why would anyone laud
Such crap?
Unless!
They were
Fucked
In the head?

Hey, I like it. Next to it in my diary is a penis, wonderfully rendered by yours truly, with the caption 'our missile silos work overtime for you! If anybody wants to read more poetry from me, I have another one I wrote on the next page that I think the world isn't quite ready for yet. Just a little sneak peek inside the mind of J Schnorng, closet nerd.

Hello again, my faithful fans (though your numbers by now must be dwindling, yea, even below two)! Welcome to another day in the life of ultra-boring man! Are you ready? Unbuckle your seat belts and get ready your leather whips, because you'll certainly need them to stay awake as we take you through another ultra-boring adventure!

Today, ultra-boring man decided to go for a run! Wearing his grey army singlet, which has the mysterious power to make him want to fall asleep, ultra-boring man was curiously inspired to take a jog round his ultra-boring Indiana estate! Along the way, ultra-boring man, to his amazement, saw absolutely nothing!

Next, after coming back from the run, ultra-boring man settled down for more ultra-boring calculus! Using his ultra-boring power of reading, ultra-boring man read precisely two and a half pages before discovering that he had been transported to sleepy land. Yes, that's right, calculus is actually a trap designed by ultra-boring man's evil nemesis, fun-with-mathematics man! Needless to say, in order to maintain the ultra-boring status quo in his ultra-boring life, ultra-boring man decided to screw calculus and read livejournals on the internet!

And so, once again, the day is made ultra-boring by ultra-boring man! Tune in tomorrow for yet another episode of ultra-boring man. Yippee!

I should be out running now, but I'm not. My excuse? I have no shoes. My excuses are so lame it's vaguely pathetic. Thankfully, I'm terribly good at lying to myself, so I've managed to convince myself that I will go running when I get to college. Yes, I'm so sure that's going to happen.

Beyond exercise (or lack thereof), I watched Barbarella on tv today. Having never watched it before, I was expecting slightly more sex. I mean, what else would you expect from a show with an orgasm reference in its title? Fortunately (stop sniggering!), there was no nudity (I mean it!) and it was, on the whole a squeaky clean family adventure. Save for the scantily clad women, of course. I now understand why it's a cult classic. Some things, you just have to watch.

I tried studying Calculus today. I heartily recommend this to anyone who wishes to die of a busted blood vessel in the brain. As you may have guessed (clever, clever people!), I wasn't exactly phenomenally successful. Anyone wishing to volunteer for the esteemed position of Calculus tutor should feel free to come on down to Terre Haute, because I sure as hell need help. I can't pay money though, so you'll have to settle for sexual favours.

Incidentally, big bad porno companies found their way to my university of chicago mailbox. Yes, my first unsolicited advertisement for pornography! I'm surprised it took such a long time coming. The title? 'Barely legal boys sent to you direct!' Am I missing something? I get the feeling something is trying to send me a message.

For those of you who've been skimming, the summary of this entry is: woke up, watched some tv, went back to sleep.

Ah, the joys of suburbia.

I spent my day rediscovering the joys of television; woke up at around 10, rolled to the side of the bed and picked up the remote control - from then on, it was all downhill. 9 hours and several sitcoms later (I just love sitcoms), here I am, sharing my day with all you unconcerned people on the internet. I know, I know, my life is so full of joy, ain't it. I've been reading strangers' livejournals - it's such a strange, voyeuristic sort of pleasure, taking sneak peeks into

the private (or maybe not so private) lives of all these pseudo-exhibitionists who see fit to share their sordid sex stories or erstwhile erotic escapades with complete digital strangers (you can see which livejournals have caught my attention, and I make no apologies); though I might not have as much sex as any of these people, I guess I'm one of the exhibitionists as well, standing with my figurative trenchcoat around the corner winking at people. Sometimes I disgust myself.

I was taking a shit just now and I realised the John Cage (Ally McBeal) and Johnny Cage (Mortal Kombat) are two extremely different fictional characters. So I was wondering, which one am I more similar to? Or perhaps more importantly, which one would I rather be? This is more pointless speculation. Go me.

On the subject of Johnny Cage, I would like to speak up on the plight of Asian characters in electronic fighting games (and also their resulting movie franchises):

First on our list is Ryu in Street Fighter 2. No doubt he is everyone's favourite (or at least second favourite) character, but you'd think he'd at least get to hook up with the token Asian chick. The game producers, however, say no! Instead, he gets to walk off into the sunset looking for more fighting. No wonder why he's such a kick ass fighter. It must be all the pent up sexual frustration.

Next on our list we have Jin Kazama in Tekken. What prize does he get for being the king of iron fist? He gets to get possessed by the devil! Whilst Paul Phoenix and Steve Bruce get to fraternize with scantily clad women, Jin gets to have a free for all with his grandfather. It's a wonder he keeps coming back for more.

Finally, back to Mortal Kombat - it's not difficult to tell who has more fun between Johnny Cage and Liu Kang (in the movie, anyway). Despite the fact that he's so clearly the more respectful, more determined and much nicer guy, or the fact that he can probably kick Johnny's ass, Johnny gets to run off and rescue Sonja, whereas Liu Kang gets to have a duel to the death showdown with Shang Tsung. Yippee. His prize for winning? The freed soul of his dead brother. Hurrah.

So, in the final analysis, what's the prize for being a respectful Asian kung fu master? A dead brother, a dead arch-nemesis (so you can't even beat someone up when you're pissed off) and your fist of fury, which will very likely be used to furiously beat on your meat. Oh, the joy.

I'm such a bitter little shit.

Having been in a relatively good mood all of yesterday, I figure I'm a little overdue for a right pissy mood. I'm sure that my faithful fans (yes, all two of you) would hate for me to lose my edge, and what other way can one maintain one's edge but by being in a right pissy mood?

So let's see...what is there to get pissed at today? I just watched 4 hours of Star Trek on TNN. I think that's one thing to be pissed off about already. I hate myself so much sometimes, especially after watching 4 hours of Star Trek and discovering that I perversely sort of enjoyed it. Travesty! Bourgeois bums do not watch Star Trek; that is a vice reserved for people who own alien suits and too many plastic toys! It just goes to show how much I've had to occupy my time that I find myself sitting in front of the television watching Captain Picard and his spandex clad crew go traipsing about their cardboard universe. My life is so sad.

Another thing to be pissed off about (perhaps one more telling of the pathetic nature of my existence) is the fact that I missed Arsenal's first game of the season. Fair enough, the boys demolished Birmingham 2-0 (yet another 2 goal mauling by a complacent Arsenal), but I should've been watching it, every glorious, indolent minute of it. How can I survive every week knowing that the Gooners will be cheering on the Arse, and that I won't be able to project my spirit to Highbury, vicariously lapping up every red and white minute? My heart aches already.

Incidentally, the new home jerseys are now available on the Arsenal website. My birthday is coming up in, let's see, 2 months and 6 days. Coincidence? I think not.

Three entries in as many days, and all of them full of bullshit. I'm suffering from a bad case of verbal diarrhea.

Today I feel a little older. It just hit me that, for once, I really have to be responsible for my money, that if I spend it all, it means more than no more tokens at the arcade or no more expensive dinners with my friends. That was a well scary thought. I now have to act like a grown up; I can't afford to blow all my money in a crazy night Taipei or buy that new gamecube just because I feel like it.

It might seem like an obvious thing to say, but there's always been that safety net in my life; when I was smaller I always imagined that my parents' funds were inexhaustible, that I could never spend too much money, that the worst thing that could possibly happen to me was maybe failing that test coming up the next week. I guess the rules have changed a little since then.

Another thing that struck me today is that I am in a totally new country. Yes, I know, it's a little late to be discovering this, but I guess these things sometimes strike you again when you least expect them to. Coming back from Indianapolis, I looked out on the highway and thought to myself, it's all so big. The road seemed to stretch on forever with only farmhouses and corn fields in sight, and I suddenly realized that Singapore was thousands of miles away, and that the world was bigger than a half hour bus ride to Orchard road.

The net's gone now. Time to see if I can fly.

In case my faithful fans don't realise, 'shout out' is a strange euphemism for 'yak over here'. I demand your attention! Yak back at me, please! This lack of feedback makes me so worked up that I nearly bust a gut in my head, and that's never pretty. No, it is not. Alright, after this shameless plug (latest in a string of shameless plugs), it's time for my usual column:

More things that I hate

1. I hate not being able to eat steamed fish. Steamed fish is not specific, it is representative. I hate that I'm at a stage in my life where I'm denied all the things I love to eat, or at least a good deal of them. Where is my Mee Siam? Where is my Duck Rice? Where is my Fish Porridge? All these are things I like to eat, and this makes me sad.

2. I hate not having something new and exciting to say every day. This does not include the ever-so-exciting 'I went to Wal-Mart today'. Despite the low prices every day, Wal-Mart is not exactly where you go to meet new people, unless, perhaps, you are in Terre Haute, Indiana. Which only makes everything more sad; I hate being sad.

3. I hate not having a car. Not that I'd be able to drive one, but I hate that too. I hate the fact that there's a party going on somewhere and I can't get there. I hate having to sit at home on Saturday nights, thinking about how fun it was to have mowed the lawn. I hate other people having a good time when all I have is this stupid old internet - AOL sucks sucks sucks! Which brings me to number 4.

4. I hate AOL. I hate, hate, hate AOL! I cannot possibly say this enough times; AOL sucks, sucks, sucks! It eats up all your memory and goes all screwy at its pleasure. It makes me think of new and creative uses for pointy sticks. AOL is the devil, and dial-up connections are its sex puppies.

5. I hate having to write hate columns. I'm such a laid back, relaxed sort of guy that it takes a lot to piss me off, but I'm really quite pissed off at this current moment, that is to say, 4.40pm on this Terre Haute friday afternoon. I think I will be better after some carrot juice. Later.

My new pet phrase is 'eskew me miss'. This is besides the point. If pressed, I will say that, in actuality, I don't have a point. This is because I am bored. Actually, it isn't, but cause and effect doesn't really do it for me, that is to say, I don't get off on causality. Not one bit.

So I watched this Kelly Chen/Chan movie yesterday, Lavender. If you're wondering how I managed to watch this conspicuously chinese movie in the nether regions of suburban USA, well, I'm not going to explain. I'm far too lazy. Anyway, there was this angel, right? And apparently, according to warped movie theology, angels survive on love (which, according to the movie, is equivalent to down dirty butty action, among other things). Why I make this point eludes me. Perhaps it is a hint. Though I would prefer to say 'clue', because that is a much nicer word.

I got my debit card today - I don't know why this makes me happy, seeing as to how I haven't spent any money in ages. I suppose it just means that I have another debit card to keep my POSB debit card company. They are orange and blue, nestled right behind the picture I keep in my wallet. They look pretty together. Maybe they will fall in love. This is also another clue.

I got my housing assignments - I'm in the Big Bird building; it pleases me no end that I'm in a building with a nickname; how pleased I would to be living in a nangka-equivalent, though those are usually landmarks rather than dormitories, so I suppose this is as close as I get. Barbie prison would be slighly more kinky, but hey, at least I'm not in Barney. I bet all the butty-men live there.

Yesterday I stayed up all night, repeating to myself, 'mai ga lim peh sng seow! wa hor le ji ba!' This is your final clue.

No prizes for guessing right except the satisfaction of a cold electronic handshake.